


A Different Sort of Taste

by hazukashiijousan



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Skip Beat!
Genre: Community: fanfic100, Crossover, Dark Agenda, Gen, This Explains So Much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazukashiijousan/pseuds/hazukashiijousan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian knows the traits that make his ideal victim, yet sometimes humanity still manages to surprise him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Sort of Taste

**Author's Note:**

> I've only watched both seasons and the oavs of the Kuroshitsuji anime, and that several years ago; thus I am not familiar with Sebastian's canon background in either anime or the original manga. Please forgive any mistakes I have made. No spoilers in this fic for either canon. Written for the LJ challenge community fanfic100.

Sebastian remembered every single one. Every soul through the millennia that he promised to serve, and then consumed. Every life he plucked from the ashes, helped rise to the height of its ambitions, and then ate at its most exquisite moment. 

He particularly liked the boys. Boys who had been wronged by friends, family, and the world. They _burned_ with passion and drive. It was easy to guide them to greater things, to fan their ambition brighter, to gently nurture their souls to the sublime and delicate balance of piquancy, so appealing to his discerning palate. 

And sometimes, he even _liked_ them. It made their souls taste only that much more glorious. 

For example, his current employer. He'd found the man as a boy, forty-five years ago. The sound of jeering and name-calling--a siren song to Sebastian--called him into a side pocket of a small Tokyo park. There he found a group of grade-school boys, gathered in a ring around another down on the ground, kicking and punching and laughing and having a deliciously evil time. Sebastian could hear their victim yelling back, could see him fighting to stand, to punch, to defend himself against the pack. 

It had the potential to be perfect. 

And so, Sebastian descended upon them. On a whim, he turned his skin dusky, nudged his features from nondescript Japanese--though beautiful--to slightly foreign--and still beautiful--then in an ominously and so very _not_ pure Japanese voice, yelled at the boys and came at them in gleeful righteous fury. 

It worked. Terrified of the tall, loud, violent gaijin, the bullies scattered. Sebastian didn't even have to use his power to scare them away, but he did just the same. Only a slight amount, to send a rock flying and knock each one a smart rap on the backside as they fled. When he turned to meet the eyes of the downed boy, his own eyes still glowing with that unheavenly light, the boy gaped and staggered to his feet. 

"What--" he whispered, then cut himself off with a violent head shake. "No, not what-- _how?_ How do you make your eyes glow like that?" 

Sebastian blinked once in surprise at this very odd question. In a thousand lifetimes of demonic doings, he'd never been asked that particular one. Then he noticed the boy's torn and dirtied Shakespearean costume, the sword made of foil-covered cardboard, the ripped wig of stringy blond hair sprawled across the grass, and the home-made palatial backdrop painted upon a now bent and broken piece of plywood. Ahhh. 

He smiled. "I will tell you, if first you tell me why those boys attacked you." 

The boy answered immediately, his frustration clear. "They think theater is stupid! They think I'm a queer for dressing like a girl when I play Juliet!" He sniffled and wiped at his eyes with a forearm, smearing tears, blood, and dirt together on his face. "It's just part of the play. They don't even see how powerful love is. I mean, that's the whole theme! How can I make them understand?! How can I make _anyone_ understand?!" 

"This has happened to you before?" 

The boy stared at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck, wincing from pain both physical and emotional. "All the time. Even my family laugh at me and call me names." He gave a great sniff again and peeked up at Sebastian through his bangs. His face was miserable and longing. 

A frisson of excitement coursed through Sebastian. There was real potential here. He _knew_ it. Theater and love? Rather different sentiments than what he usually worked with, but Sebastian felt like a challenge. 

"No one understands your ideals and showmanship. That must be very frustrating for you." Sebastian pulled a snowy white handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to the boy, who accepted it and wiped at his nose. 

"Yes," the child mumbled. 

Sebastian crouched down to be level with the boy and gestured at his eyes. "We have a deal, and so I must answer." 

The boy stopped scrubbing his face with the handkerchief and cocked his head. "Really?" 

"Yes. It's in the rules. My eyes glow because I am not a normal person." 

"You're a foreigner! Anyone can see that. Foreigner's eyes can't just glow!" 

"I didn't say I was a foreigner, I said I am not a normal person." 

The boy wrinkled his nose in confusion. "What does that mean?" 

"Let me show you." Sebastian stood, took a step back, and flung his arms wide. He spun about on one leg, leaped high in the air--higher than the most skilled ballet star--and clapped his hands above his head. At the same time, he washed his power over the boy and his destroyed set, healing wounds, patching rips and kicked-in holes, and even giving the painted palace a true sparkle in its plastic-wrap-glazed windows. He landed with unearthly grace and swept into a deep, elegant bow. 

The boy could only gape, staring agog for several moments at his vanished wounds, fine costume and improved theatrical accouterments. He then jumped to his feet and cheered. "Oh wow, that was amazing! You really _aren't_ a normal person!" 

"Thank you--" Sebastian deliberately paused, one brow raised in question. 

The boy grinned hugely. "Takarada Lory! Like the bird! I chose it myself, 'cause my real was boring." 

"A most elegant appellation. Thank you, Lory-san," he said. "I am Sebastian. Please address me as such." He bowed again. "Tell me, Lory. What is your greatest desire?" 

With another grin, the boy ran to his set and hopped up onto a purple-painted crate, one that Sebastian had further trimmed with golden lace. "I want to share the joy of love with everyone! Acting! Music! Costumes! Tricks! Everything that makes everyone happy and full of love!" He swooped into a leap and bow, in clear imitation of Sebastian's previous feat. _"It's my ultimate dream to bring love to the entire world!"_ Lory's face positively glowed with joy and ambition. 

"A truly worthy dream, Lory! To that effect, I have a deal I would like to propose." Sebastian smiled _his_ smile, the one that sent shivers down spines and heralded the toppling of nations. 

Eyes wide as he took in that expression, the boy faltered for a moment. But to Sebastian's delight, he rallied and smiled back. "Let's hear it, then!" 

Sebastian bowed a third time. "Yes, my master."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is entirely due to fandom having latched permanently on to Kyoko's spontaneous appellation of Lory's assistant as "Sebastian". This is my new head-canon to explain Lory's overwhelming success. Definitely. Hope you liked it!


End file.
